by Annis Reid
“What do ye mean?”
“It’s one thing for me to dream about the past, but another thing for the person I’m dreaming about to not know anything about me. I mean, that’s just not how dreams work. Even if you’re in a totally strange situation, certain things make sense. I know I’m not explaining it right. I’m such a mess.”
“I believe I ken what it is ye try to explain,” he murmured slowly. “Ye may dream of being home, and even if the home does not look like your house, in your dream ye know it is. Without being told.”
“Yes!” she gasped, relieved. “And the people around you might not look like the people they’re supposed to be, but you know who they are. And you don’t comment on things being different, because in your dream that’s just the way things are.”
“Aye. I ken your meaning, lass.” Though that still did not explain why she behaved so strangely. She seemed to be thinking clearly enough. Why was she so insistent upon this not being reality, then?
“Seventeen forty-seven,” she whispered. “America doesn’t exist yet.”
“America?”
She shook her head. “Forget about it. No, it’s not possible. I must be dreaming.” She pinched herself once. Twice. “Well, maybe it doesn’t work the way people say it’s going to work.”
“Lass, dinna I know ye. I know nothing about ye. Yet I can say with certainty that ye are not dreaming. This is truly happening to ye, to both of us. I am on my way to the Fraser keep, where I will wed Flora MacNeill. I happened upon ye fleeing the MacNeill ruins. The castle in which the family once made their home.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And what happened to the family?”
“They died, right down to the stable boys and the blacksmith and the young lasses who tend to the chickens and goats.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Everyone died within a fortnight, is that right? That would’ve happened before you were born, wouldn’t it?”
She fairly took his breath away. Of all the things she might have said, this was the one he’d expected least. “How did ye know that? I thought ye were not from this place. Did someone tell ye, then?”
“You could say that,” she whispered, looking up at the trees. “But is it possible? It can’t be. Can it?”
“Can what not be possible? What are ye saying, lass?”
She was so stirred, even the horse was beginning to note her nervousness. He pranced and pawed at the ground, drawing Leith’s concern.
Leith calmed the beast while she muttered to herself and behaved quite alarmingly. He was beginning to wonder whether he’d made a mistake, putting her in the saddle at all. There was no telling with a person who’d lost leave of their senses, be they man or woman. Though the lass was slight, she might decide to attack or even steal the horse.
“Hear me out,” she urged while he calmed his mount. “I feel everything around me. I hear everything. I smell everything. If this is a dream, it’s the most vivid dream I’ve ever had.”
How to say this gently, that he might not offend her? “Lass, if ‘tis a dream, this means I am part of your dream. I can assure ye, I am truly here. This is my life, truly happening.”
She looked as though she were about to be sick. A wave of compassion swept over him. If she were ill, it was not of her doing. She could not be held responsible for her illness. She seemed a nice sort. Bonny, with a keen wit.
Though that could have been a result of any illness she suffered, as well. He had known men in his time who’d struck him as quite bright and keen, only to find later that they were in the grip of madness after some of the indignities they had suffered during the war. A bright flame, blindingly bright, which soon burned itself out.
He helped her from the saddle, lingering close to her. Hovering, nearly. Wondering if there was something else he might do to soothe or comfort her when she was this upset.
She huddled beneath the tartan, staring out toward the road and the village beyond. “This is going to sound completely crazy,” she whispered in a very small, frightened voice.
“What is it? Dinna be afraid to speak what is on your mind, lass. If there is any way I can be of service, I would like to be.”
She snickered. “Can you send me back to my time?”
He took a backward step, then another, now certain he’d been mistaken in making her acquaintance. In light of this, Flora MacNeill did not seem such a terrible prospect. At least the lass had her wits about her.
Melissa took no notice of his apprehension. She was too intent on the village, staring at it with eyes which narrowed as if she concentrated deeply on what she saw there.
“Your time?” he finally asked once he’d found his voice. “What does that mean? What time do ye believe ye come from?”
He had once seen a snake spring out of tall grass. One moment it had not been there, in the next it had. His horse had reared, throwing him from the saddle, but Leith had been fortunate enough to kill the wretched thing before it could do any harm to him or his animal.
The memory came to mind as Melissa’s head snapped about, her eyes wide and fiery when they found his.
“It’s not a matter of what I believe. It’s a matter of the truth. Leith, I come from the twenty-first century.”
6
This day had taken a turn, hadn’t it? For both of them.
Considering that Melissa was the one thrust three centuries back in time, she thought she was handling it well. Leith, on the other hand? Not so much.
He paced back and forth, rubbing his hands together. He must’ve run over that same patch of ground a hundred times. The fact that he hadn’t worn a rut in the dirt was impressive. It seemed like pacing was his way of dealing with what she’d announced, so she didn’t ask him to stop.
Knowing what she did about this era, he would probably think she was a witch for coming out with something so off-the-wall. “I’m not a witch,” she thought to tell him. “Just in case you were wondering.”
His laugh was more like a bark. “I had not considered before now, so I thank ye for putting it in my mind.”
“I just told you, I’m not.”
“With all due respect, lass, if ye were a witch, would ye tell me so?” He glanced at her for the first time since he started pacing, but his eyes immediately darted away. Like looking at her for too long was dangerous, something he didn’t want to subject himself to.
Like she was something frightening. As if.
He had probably seen a dozen different things that very day which were more of a threat to him than she was. Like that lady with the filthy hands, holding out loaves of bread.
“I know how it must sound to you,” she said, shifting her weight on the rock he’d deposited her on before his pacing had started. She guessed she should be grateful to him. He might’ve taken the horse and run far away. He probably considered his bride to be a step up in the world compared to her.
But he was sticking around. He was a smart guy, that much was obvious. He had the sort of mind that made him want to figure things out. He wasn’t the type who walked away or ran away when things got tough.
Not like some people she knew, or used to know. Or used to be engaged to.
“Believe me, this is no more of a thrill for me,” she assured him. “And honestly, it’s not your trouble. I’m not your problem. I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you wanted to leave me here. Granted, I don’t know how I got here and I have no idea how to get home. Maybe the castle has something to do with it. Maybe if I go back there?”
He looked at her again, frowning. “Is that a question? Do ye expect me to agree or disagree?”
“I’m only thinking out loud. This is just as new to me as it is to you.”
“Ye are correct about one thing,” he agreed. He finally came to a stop with his back to her, hands on his hips. His shoulders rose and fell as he heaved a heavy sigh. “Tis not my trouble.”
Her heart sank. Not that she needed him, not really, but it was sort of nice to have
him with her. It was better than being alone.
“I understand,” she murmured, feeling as low as she had the day she broke up with Jimmy. Once again, she was on her own.
Only now, she had nothing to hold onto. No life, no job, no apartment. She didn’t even have any clothes besides what she was wearing, which she now understood was a scandal compared to what people of that time were used to seeing on a woman. No wonder they’d called it her shift, since it looked to them like underwear.
He sighed again as his head turned so he could look at her over his shoulder. “This does not mean I plan to desert ye, lass. Fear not.”
Hope flickered to life in her chest. Faint, weak, but there. “You don’t even know me,” she breathed, hoping against hope.
“That is so.” He turned his head again, staring ahead. All she could do was watch his back, his shoulders, for any hint of what he was thinking or feeling.
“You were on your way somewhere. Please, don’t let me keep you from what you have to do.” When he snorted, she understood why. “Listen. I know you don’t want to go. But don’t let me get in the way of what needs to be done for your clan. I understand it’s important for you to make an alliance and be true to your word.”
He stiffened all over, and she wondered if she’d said too much. Maybe she was making assumptions she had no business making. He had only told her a little bit about his arrangement, after all.
“I’m sorry. I’ve said too much,” she sighed. “I’m a nervous talker. And honestly, I don’t want to make trouble for you. You’ve been nice to me. You saved my neck back at the castle. Though it wasn’t my neck in danger, was it?” Her laughter was thin, a little frantic. Who wouldn’t be frantic in a situation like this?
It took him a moment, but he eventually answered. “Nay, lass. Ye have not said too much. Tis only that your words brought an idea to mind.”
“Oh, what is that?”
He turned to her now, wonder spreading across his handsome face. That was the only word she could think of to describe it. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide.
Then, a smile broke out, and it was like the sun coming out from behind dark clouds. It lit up his face, turning it from just handsome to miraculous. She had never even been much for men with beards, but it worked for him. He kept it neatly trimmed, giving her a glimpse of his impossibly square jaw and strong chin.
Sure, it was probably trimmed for his wedding. She reminded herself he was to be another woman’s husband. And the fact that he was a dude from the past. Not the guy she needed to be studying like a brunch menu.
“Ye have given me an idea, lass. I ask myself whether it is the height of folly even to entertain such a notion.”
“What’s the idea? No fair making me wonder without telling me.” She was doing her best to be lighthearted, but it wasn’t working. She still felt sick, shaky. Filled with a mixture of disbelief and mind-numbing fear.
She was in a world that wasn’t hers. A world full of challenges she could never comprehend. And she had no idea how to get out of there.
Stupid her, once thinking it would be cool to go back in time.
He crouched in front of her, and she was glad he wasn’t wearing a kilt. Even so, his trousers strained when his thighs and calves bulged. He was big all over. And even now, the sight of his powerful body made her blush.
He was unaware of the way he made her thoughts wander, all sincerity and seriousness. “I must find a way to avoid marrying Flora MacNeill,” he murmured. There was a sharp light in his eyes, an excitement she hadn’t seen up until then.
“Okay…” she said, waiting. Maybe he was in love with another girl, and that was why he absolutely couldn’t marry her. It was dumb, but the thought of him loving somebody else made her sad for a second. Why? She didn’t even know this guy.
“And ye are in need of protection. Ye need someone to guide ye, and to keep those who might take advantage of ye away. Is that not so?”
“That’s so,” she agreed, miserable. “No offense, but you aren’t doing much to make me feel better right now.”
“Forgive me, lass. I’m just now attempting to make sense of all of it, ye ken.”
The touch of his hands on hers came as a surprise. “I need ye to pretend to be my wife.”
Just like that, she pulled her hands away. “Excuse me?”
He blinked, surprised, and stood in a flash. “What of it? Many is the lass who would be grateful for the chance to even pretend to be my wife.”
“Good for them, but they’re not me.” Not that it mattered very much whether she was sitting or standing, since she was still so much shorter than he was, but standing up to him sort of had a symbolic meaning that she liked. And so, she stood, glaring up at him. “What? Do you think you can take advantage of me because you know I have a problem? I appreciate your offer to help, but I doubt I would be able to fool anyone into thinking I’m somebody from this era.”
She held her hand up, wiggling her fingers in his face. “Nail polish. Remember? Just one of many things that would be a dead giveaway to anybody wanting to know about your new bride. And trust me, I might not know much about customs in this part of the world, but something tells me if you show up and everybody finds out you already got married, they’re going to be pretty upset. They’re going to want to know who you chose over Flora. I don’t know if I could stand up to scrutiny.”
“Of course, ye could. I can simply tell them ye are from somewhere outside of Scotland.” His brow furrowed. “Though I canna imagine where.”
“See? Believe me, Leith, I appreciate your help so far. But I’m not the girl who pretends to be somebody’s wife and actually gets away with it. I’m a terrible liar, I always have been.”
“Ye would refuse me so quickly, even when your verra life might depend upon it?” His brows lifted, his lips pursed. “Ye seem to have a great deal of confidence in your ability to survive here.”
Blood hummed in her ears, her pulse racing. Something inside her rose to the unspoken challenge he offered. “Is that a threat? What, do you plan to kill me if I say no?”
He looked at her like she had lost her mind, which she very well might have. Yes, all things considered, that was just as likely as anything else. “Nay, lass! I would not harm ye. I only mean that if ye were on your own, would ye survive?”
“Oh. My mistake.” There she went, embarrassing herself. “Now, you see what I mean. I have an awful temper, I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’m not going to be like one of the girls of this time, obeying and staying quiet and… I don’t know, embroidering.”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, a rueful expression washing over his face. “Aye, t’would be difficult to pretend ye are who ye aren’t for a great number of days on end. If we made a short visit, however, we might be able to get away with it. So long as ye kept to yourself and did not engage in idle conversation. Perhaps I could say ‘tis how I prefer things. I dinna much enjoy the notion of my wife prattling on with just anyone. Perhaps I am the jealous sort.”
For some reason, the way he described himself like he was describing a total stranger made her laugh. “I’m sorry.” She giggled when he frowned. “You have to see how funny this is.”
He snickered, though there didn’t seem to be much amusement. “Ye have a strange sense of humor, lass. I find nothing amusing in any of this. However, I believe we can help one another.”
“And what will you do for me? Let’s say we get this done, and we fool everybody, and we leave with no trouble. What next?”
“For one, ye would have survived that long. Do ye believe yourself up to the task of surviving on your own?”
She rolled her eyes. “Point taken.”
He lowered his brow, his voice lowering to match. “That, and ye have my vow, lass. I will do everything in my power to find a way to send ye home. It matters not how long it takes, or how far the journey takes us. If we can manage together to help me avoid marrying a woman I absolutely loathe, I would do anyth
ing. I shall be your slave.”
Well, since he put it that way…
It wasn’t lost on her that knowing he hated his intended bride improved her view of the situation somewhat. He seemed like a nice guy. Too nice to be stuck in a marriage with someone he hated. She made a mental note to ask him later on this why he hated the girl, but there was way too much to be dealt with in the immediate future.
Such as the fact that the sky was starting to darken, the sun on its way down. They would need to find someplace to spend the night, then decide how to move on in the morning.
Was this happening? Was she really considering this crazy scheme?
Then again, it was no crazier than anything else that had happened to her so far. At least Leith offered her protection. That was a step up from dying of starvation.
Or worse.
She had the sense of stepping off the edge of a precipice as she nodded. “Okay. I’m in. Where do we start?”
He looked her up and down, then looked up at the sky. “I believe we start with finding a room at the inn.” Then, he looked down at her again. “After that, we must find ye something more suitable to wear. T’would be foolish to even attempt to explain what you’re wearing now.”
And that was it. Just like that, she was someone’s pretend wife.
She couldn’t help but snicker to herself when she considered this was still better than being Jimmy’s real wife, which wasn’t saying a whole lot.
7
“One room?”
Melissa looked up at him, eyes wide. She had lovely eyes, truly, grey as a stormy sky flecked with bits of gold and green. Eyes he could imagine staring into for hours on end if given a chance.
If the eyes belonged to any other lass but her.
He cleared his throat, glancing around to be certain they were not overheard. “What would ye prefer?” he asked in a tight voice. “We are to be man and wife, are we not? We must behave as such.”
He then indicated the garments she wore, much more in keeping with the manner in which women dressed in his time. “To say nothing of the coin it would cost. Coin which I have already spent on your clothing.”
